The Knocking
You are inside now,
a blizzard of loneliness
whispers through the keyhole.
Sadness locks in like the sleeping
cat on a windowsill.
You can’t remember where you were
When that door slammed
the heart out of you.
Inside and out,
it is the same cold front,
the door cannot close against—
but there comes a knocking,
there always comes a knocking,
that is why we have doors: inside, out, slam
There comes a knocking—
Open up.
by Laurie Kuntz
Editor’s Note: The skillful metaphors of this poem convey the emotional bleakness that happens during intense trauma with perfect clarity.
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